


Anticipation

by bickazer



Series: Magus Verse [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blow Jobs, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, Domestic Discipline, Fantasy, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Language, M/M, Magic-Users, PWP, Pet Names, Powerlessness, Scent Kink, Size Difference, Spanking, Submission, Undressing, court intrigue, men in makeup, soulbonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:11:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bickazer/pseuds/bickazer
Summary: Ilya is the submissive ministra partner of the dominant energos Dracen. He tries his best at playing the court game, smiling and bullshitting to the snakes and vultures around them, but one day he can't take it anymore - he explodes at a courtier he particularly hates. He embarrasses his energos in public. Luckily, Dracen's always there to remind him to do better.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story in my "Magus Verse," a world in which magic users are divided into dominant/submissive castes and there's a lot of court politics and costume porn. There are two main stories in this universe, but they're both on my fictionpress (where I'm also bickazer), and I won't port them over because they're long monsters.
> 
> This story is...well, look at the warnings. It's a PWP featuring two of the characters from the verse. It actually takes place after chapter 3 of "Alone, Together," the first story, but I've tried to make it so you don't have to read the main story beforehand and there aren't any big spoilers. And really, all the setup's just an excuse for the porn.

As Ilya followed his energos into the Circle Apartments, his heartbeat picked up and anticipation twisted his gut.

Which wasn't terribly unusual, considering. Often after a banquet, he and Dracen would work out their pent-up frustrations using each other's bodies. Hours of sitting still and playing the social game with the other courtiers could do that to a person.

But tonight, the emotions reverberating through their bond weren't shared relief and desire. Instead, from Dracen Ilya detected a dark, seething edge of discontentment. And he knew exactly where it came from. It made a sick dragging sensation fill his stomach.

They crossed the courtyard and stepped through the archway into the Thandemar quarters. The rooms were located on the bottom floor, of course, since stairs gave Dracen quite a bit of trouble. As was proper, Ilya followed behind his energos, but his heart ached watching Dracen limp across the floor, his walking stick clicking upon the tiles.  

The light-spheres were already dimmed when Ilya and Dracen entered. Dracen muttered a chant, and Ilya felt the familiar tug through the bond as Dracen's aura stirred to life the light aura inside the glass spheres. They cast a pale glow around the quarters, illuminating the heavy bookcases full of history and archaeology tomes, the rack of knives on display, the tapestry depicting the Thandemar white tiger.

Dracen didn't speak until they went into the bedroom, and even then it was only to issue a single curt order. "Undress."

Normally he would have stripped Ilya himself, but right now he was busying undoing his own jacket, untying his sash embroidered with the Thandemar white tiger. As he worked, water dripped upon the carpet. Ilya was dripping wet as well; with great relief he unpeeled the soaked layers of his robes, letting the wisteria-patterned silk slide to the floor in damp piles. Taking off court robes was an annoying affair at best of times, but even worse when they were wet. Damn the prince for summoning a rainstorm at the banquet.

Trying not to scowl, he wiped off his makeup too, leaving black and purple streaks all over the towel, and yanked the pins out of his hair, letting it cascade freely down his back. The weight of his hairdo had made his neck ache.

To hell with court fashion.

Ilya held in the snarky comments he wanted to make, though. He sensed Dracen's mood well enough. Once they were naked and had hung up their clothing to dry, Dracen slipped into a loose cotton sleeping robe and sat in the velvet-upholstered armchair in the bedroom, but ordered Ilya, "Kneel."

Ilya bit his bottom lip, but wouldn't dream of disobeying Dracen when his energos was taking that tone, a tone that stirred to life all his ministra instincts. He sank to his knees at the foot of the chair, his body tense and quivering as he awaited further instructions.

Dracen loomed above him, a tall, impressive figure. With his walking stick set aside and his weight off his feet, there was no sign of weakness on his body. Seeing him like this reminded Ilya just how strong Dracen's build was, his shoulders broad and his features chiseled. And Ilya felt even smaller in comparison.

"Ilya," Dracen said, his deep voice rumbling in Ilya's bones. "It's late at night and I'd really rather go to bed, but you understand what has to be done before then, don't you?"

Oh, Ilya understood full well. The bond was as clear and sharp as it had ever been, broadcasting Dracen's emotions with no filter. Weariness, and a cold, terrible disappointment. _Disappointment_. Ilya's gut twisted.

As a ministra, he lived to serve his energos. To know that he'd failed in his duty - it almost crushed him.

"I understand, Master," he said softly. He didn't call Dracen that in public. But now he was about to get punished.

"Then explain to me what you did wrong."

Oh, Ilya knew. He knew full well. He squeezed his eyes shut, replaying the incident from earlier that night. He had lost his temper at the Prince's Consort, Aramy Basquiale. To be fair, Basquiale was an intolerable person at the best of times, but watching the snake flit all over the newcomer Kestrel Knight and charm him with pretty words and sweet smiles, while ignoring his own bonded, irritated Ilya beyond all measure.

And he'd exploded.

He'd shouted at Basquiale. Even stood up, attempted to attack him. At least until Dracen had stopped him.

His energos' voice echoed in his head, loud as a thunderclap. _Tonight is an occasion to welcome our new arrival to the palace. It would behoove you not to spoil it with pointless conflicts._

The moment Dracen had spoken those words, Ilya had known he was going to get punished. The chaotic events of the rest of the night had taken his mind off the upcoming punishment, but now there was nothing stand in his way.

"I," he said, speaking to the floor, "acted without any dignity. I almost assaulted the Prince's Consort. I lost control."

"That's right," Dracen said. "What else?"

What else? What else did Dracen want from him? Ilya reached for the bond, but Dracen had narrowed the flow of information through it, preventing Ilya from getting a full read of his emotions. Ilya had to search for the answer himself, and that irritated him. He hated when his energos played games with him.

"I - I know I shouldn't have, Master," he burst out, "but you know what Basquiale's like, I couldn't help myself. That fucking self-important bastard acting like he doesn't have to answer to _anyone_ \- "

"Enough, Ilya." Dracen spoke calmly, but with enough of an edge to make Ilya stop his mindless sputterings. "You couldn't help yourself, you say? Yes, you can. You always can. Or am I wrong about you?"

That simple question lanced through Ilya's chest, made him recoil. "No, you're not, Master."

"I know I am not," Dracen said, speaking with the confidence that had first drawn Ilya to him. "I know I can believe in you, that I can trust you to always stand by my side. But even ten years later, the others still see a savage gang leader when they look at you. A child of the streets, unable to control himself in _civilized_ company."

Even though Dracen was just repeating the other courtiers' accusations, anger stirred inside Ilya anyway. A familiar, burning-hot anger. The part of him that was all gang leader, that still remained a gang leader even after all these years, demanded he answer these insults to his honor.

But that part had taken control earlier tonight, and now he was kneeling naked at his energos' feet.

"Every time you act out in public," Dracen said, "every time your self-control slips even a small amount, gives our enemies more ammunition against us. And that'd you do it in front of Lord Kestrel Knight...."

With a faint stirring of dread, Ilya realized what this was really about. Dracen wasn't just angry because he'd shouted at Basquiale - Ancestors knew Dracen would have dearly loved to do the same - but because he'd done it in front of the newest member of the Circle of Magi. The man whom the banquet was to be honoring.

The man whom he and Dracen hoped to get on their side, to turn into an invaluable ally.

Ilya blushed, shame tightening his stomach. The sick, festering shame of a ministra who had failed his energos. Put that way, he really hadn't given Lord Knight the best first impression. He'd made his energos rebuke him in public - the worst possible thing a ministra could do.

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered to the floor. "I'm sorry. I let you down."

"Think of it more as letting yourself down. You can do better than this. I know it, I know it with all my heart."

"I'm sorry," Ilya said again, not really thinking anymore. His ministra instincts had taken over, compelling him to apologize, to appease the disappointed energos. And it did not help that Dracen's scent was beating against his face, the musk thick and overwhelming.

Dracen could wield his energos presence with the precision of a scalpel, shaping it easily to get the desired result out of Ilya. It had annoyed Ilya, once, and it maybe still did. But more than anything, he envied how easily Dracen could control - everything. Every aspect of his self, from his mind to his instincts. Ilya often strove to imitate Dracen's self-control, but he almost always fell short.

"I know you are, little raven." Dracen's voice came surprisingly soft, making Ilya lift his head. "Hopefully this punishment will teach you not to do this again."

"Yes, Master," Ilya said, swallowing. For a brief moment, he'd let himself hope that Dracen might let him off on a lecture, but of course that wasn't happening. Not when he'd committed such an awful wrong.

Dracen gestured, and Ilya climbed up onto his energos' lap, settling his weight atop Dracen's thighs. He blushed, humiliated by the sadly familiar position. His head dangled over one arm of the chair, his legs dangled over the other. His feet just barely skimmed the floor; he was that small.

This close to Dracen, all he could breathe was his energos' musk, and it made him lightheaded. He became more aware than ever that he was naked and Dracen clothed, even if only in a thin sleeping robe. The powerlessness of his position sent a surge of heat through his groin, but he didn't get hard - thank the First.

This was a punishment, and he couldn't lose sight of that.

Dracen lifted one knee, forcing Ilya to raise his ass a little higher. Ilya blushed harder. Then Dracen rested his hand on Ilya's small bottom, his long fingers easily covering both cheeks, and the sudden weight and pressure made Ilya gulp.

His heart was slamming so hard he almost missed what Dracen said. "I'm going to spank you with my hand. I will not bind you; I trust you to keep your hands in place. If you try to reach back, I will add more smacks. Understood?"

Just a hand spanking. Probably lighter than he deserved, but they were both tired and still cold from the rain. Dracen obviously wanted to get this over with. Besides, it didn't mean the spanking would hurt any less.

"Yes, Master," Ilya whispered, drawing in a deep breath.

Now he had no other choice - he had to hand over all control to his energos. This exact moment Ilya both anticipated and dreaded more than anything else.

As a gang leader, he'd wanted to have control over everything; it was the only way to ensure his survival. Then he had met Dracen and finally understood what it meant to submit, the freedom and rush and joy that came with it, but it hadn't been easy.

And honestly, it hadn't become any easier after all these years.

Dracen lifted his hand - Ilya held his breath - and brought it down, hard, across Ilya's left ass cheek.

Ilya squeaked, more startled than hurt by the impact. The sound echoed around the room, followed quickly by the first blush of pain. Dracen smacked him again, in the same place, and again and again, until the initial sting built into a deeper throb. Ilya tried to hold himself still, tried to calm his racing pulse, but it was difficult.

When Dracen brought his hand down again, setting the inflamed skin on fire, Ilya gave in. He cried out, a sharp gasp of pain.

Now the smacks fell swifter and with more force, cracking across both cheeks and then moving lower down. When Dracen started on his sit spots, Ilya squealed aloud and gripped the velvet of the seat side to keep himself from reaching back. The velvet was already frayed from the countless times he'd gripped it in this same position.

"Ow Master, ow," he cried, his face burning in shame as Dracen spanked him in quick succession across each sit spot, hard enough to make the delicate flesh jiggle. Then he started on Ilya's thighs, and Ilya began arching his back and kicking, seeking some relief from the fiery hail of pain.

Dracen just wrapped a strong arm around his waist, pinning him in place. Oh, this was the worst damn thing about spankings; Ilya had endured far worse in his life as a gang leader and warrior, but nothing matched the pain and humilation of being spanked on the bare bottom just like a child. Tears were already stinging his eyes, and his embarrassment only made him cry harder.

"Ilya," Dracen said, his voice rising above the smacks and Ilya's cries. "Do you understand what you've done wrong? Tell me if you know."

He punctuated his statement with an intent smack to the inside of Ilya's left thigh, a sensitive and untouched place. Ilya whined, fisting his hands in the velvet. Then he felt Dracen's knee between his thighs, pushing them apart. His balls and cock dragged across Dracen's thigh, sending heat through his face, but that was nothing compared to the sharp flares of pain when Dracen started on his inner thighs.

"N-no, no, not there, Master!" he cried out, writhing in Dracen's relentless grip.

"Do you understand what you've done wrong?" Dracen repeated, the command in his voice compelling all of Ilya's instincts. "Tell me if you know."

"I - I - I acted without thinking," Ilya blubbered as Dracen lay a last few, increasingly hard smacks to his inner thighs. " _Ow please_ \- I, I lost control, I embarrassed you in, in front of Lord Knight - _Master it hurrrts_ \- "

He gave in, letting the tears flow freely, shaking from sobs as Dracen pushed his thighs closed and started back up on his buttocks, reigniting the stinging pain there.

"I know it hurts, love," Dracen said, calm and reasonable as ever even as he spanked Ilya with increasing force. "It's supposed to. Now tell me, why is it such a bad thing for you to embarrass me in public?"

"B-because," Ilya gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, "because - _ow_ \- I am your ministra, my, my behavior reflects on you as my master - "

Two hard smacks rained down upon his left sit spot, and Ilya couldn't take it anymore - he moved a hand blindly backward, trying to protect his stinging, throbbing ass from further abuse. But Dracen caught his wrist expertly, pinning it to the small of his back, and gave him another two smacks in the same place, making Ilya howl and thrash.

_"Master owwww please - "_

"I told you no reaching back," Dracen said. He lifted his knee further, forcing Ilya to raise his ass higher, presenting an even more vulnerable target. Ilya gasped with sobs, trembling, unable to do anything to protect himself as Dracen smacked him across both cheeks with enough force to make his ass bounce. He writhed side-to-side, desperately trying to escape, but there was no escape from Dracen's hard, unrelenting hand.

"And there's another reason, little raven, why I don't want you to embarrass me in public," Dracen continued, almost gentle now. "Please inscribe it in your heart. It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you."

He moved down to Ilya's thighs again, spanking his way steadily up, each smack harder than the last. With each smack his palm dug deep into Ilya's flesh, sending sparks of pain through Ilya's muscles. Ilya trembled, sobbing, his long loose hair cascading around his face in a dark curtain.

"It's the faith I have in you, Ilya. I don't regret bonding with you and I never will. I have faith in you to always stand by my side, to be my support, my _ministra_ , with everything you have. I don't want any reason for _anyone_ to think that my faith is misplaced."

Even more than the ferocious blows, even more than the burning pain across his ass and thighs, Dracen's words struck at Ilya's heart. His sobs rose in pitch and he shook his head madly, desperately.

"No, Master, Master, of course not, of course I - I'll do better, I swear, I'll give you reason - "

"I already believe in you, Ilya," Dracen said. "That's why it disappoints me when you act out. Because I _know_ you are better than this. I _know_ you are not a street rat. I _know_ you can control yourself. I know you are strong and brave and dignified and there is none other who could possibly be my ministra. And that's why I am punishing you. So you will not forget."

"I promise, Master," Ilya said breathlessly, jumping as Dracen smacked the fullest part of his cheeks. "I promise, I will never, I _never_ \- I'll be good, I'll submit, everything, everything is yours - "

He was babbling and he knew it, but the pain and humiliation was just too much, had become his world. He was naked over his energos' lap getting his ass and thighs slapped bright red and he was small and powerless and nothing, absolutely nothing beneath his energos' force and will. He was a canvas on which the energos could paint his desires - it was only in moments like these that Ilya truly understood those words, resonated with them with every ounce of his soul.

Dracen pushed down on the small of his back, then two of the hardest smacks yet fell, one upon each sit spot, reigniting the blazing pain and making Ilya yelp aloud. The pain built and built, throbbing in time to Ilya's rapidly racing heartbeat, until he had no choice but to wriggle and writhe and whine and cry in Dracen's grip, unable to express himself in any other way.

When he was at last done, he dangled limply in Dracen's lap, drawing in shallow breaths and vaguely aware that Dracen hadn't spanked him again. It was over. Dracen let him cry it out, not touching him, knowing that was the way Ilya preferred it.

Slowly, Ilya removed his free hand from the side of the chair, dragging away scraps of velvet with his nails. He brushed his bangs back from his face, wiped his tears away. Then he tried lifting himself, and Dracen got the signal and let go of his back. Ilya immediately curled up to Dracen's chest, breathing in his energos' scent and warmth and letting it drive away some of the pain throbbing across the entire lower half of his body.

"Good boy, good little raven," Dracen murmured, gently running a hand through Ilya's hair, carding the long black strands through his pale fingers. Ilya sighed at the sensation, pressing his face deeper into the hard contours of his energos' muscled chest.

"I'm sorry, Master," he said when he trusted himself to speak. "You were right. Thank you for spanking me."

Dracen laughed, a soft, velvety little sound that made Ilya feel even warmer. And to think he'd been so cold and damp before. "You're so sweet. So submissive. I love seeing you like this."

Ilya smiled, a little spark of joy leaping in his chest. How he lived for his energos' praise.

"But honestly, I love everything about you. Even when you're shouting at Aramy Basquiale. In fact, I may love you most when you're doing so."

"Then why'd you punish me for it?" Ilya said, flicking his fingernail against Dracen's chest.

"Because as the Thandemar representative on the Circle of Magi, I can't allow my ministra to behave in such an undignified manner." Dracen smiled down at Ilya, his crystal blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. He looked so vibrant like this, so alive. Ilya smiled back.

"Of course. I wouldn't dream of embarrassing you again, Master."

"No doubt, because if you do, there'll be more spankings to remind you." And before Ilya could figure out what was happening, Dracen's hand squeezed his well-spanked ass, setting the irritated flesh on fire again. He hissed, fighting back tears of pain.

"Ah." Dracen instantly let go, his hand moving up to Ilya's back. "We'd better see about that, hmm?"

Then before Ilya could stop him, he wrapped his arm around Ilya's waist and stood up, pulling Ilya with him. Ilya leaned against Dracen, helping to support him as he limped toward the bed. Then he pushed Ilya upon the bed on his hands and knees with his ass raised, and Ilya's cock twitched. Was he going to get fucked?

Not likely. It was hard to convince Dracen to fuck him after a spanking, because Dracen had stated that he didn't want Ilya to associate punishments with pleasure. Still, the fact was Ilya always got hard after a spanking, and so did Dracen, their bodies reacting according to their instincts as a submissive ministra and dominant energos.

Then all thought was wiped from Ilya's mind when Dracen settled behind him, unclicked a jar, and started rubbing lotion into his thoroughly abused ass and thighs. Ilya stiffened, gasping in pleasure, as Dracen worked. The lotion was cool and smooth against his overheated skin, a wonderful balm, and Dracen's hands worked with such sure, confident expertise, worshiping every inch of his sensitive flesh.

Ilya couldn't help it; he let out a moan. Even so, he made an abortive attempt at moving away. "Come on, Master, I don't need this. It didn't hurt _that_ much - "

"I know it didn't," Dracen said, light and teasing. "You know I just like doing this, don't you?"

Ilya sighed and rolled his eyes, but let his energos work without any further protest. And when Dracen's hands slid between his thighs, Ilya opened them eagerly. The sensation of Dracen's lotion-slick hands massaging his inner thighs sent more blood rushing down to his groin, stiffening his already half-hard cock.

And of course Dracen took notice. Humming to himself, he slid his hand across Ilya's balls and then up the shaft, before squeezing Ilya's entire rather small specimen inside one hand. The sudden pressure, combined with the slickness from the lotion, made Ilya gasp and tremble.

"M-Master," he moaned into the sheets. "Please...."

"As you wish, my raven," Dracen said, his voice soft as a silk curtain, and he pumped once, twice, three times, and that was enough for Ilya. Combined with the warm haze of submission and the pain of the spanking, the physical stimulus pushed him over the edge. He spasmed, gasping, as he came into Dracen's hand.

He collapsed, breathing hard, as Dracen slid his hand away, leaving a streak of cum upon the sheets. Dracen sighed. "We're going to make a mess again."

"That's why we have maids." Though he could barely summon any strength in his body, Ilya forced himself to rise and turn to face his energos. He reached for Dracen's robe, drawing it open and revealing his own rapidly hardening cock. As always, watching it swell in size and girth made Ilya's insides tremble in anticipation.

"Wait, Ilya." Dracen paled and scooted back a little. "I can take care of this myself, later."

"Don't be such a fucking prude, old man." With that bald pronouncement, Ilya bent over Dracen's cock and took the head in his mouth.

Dracen gasped, his body stiffening, his thighs twitching. Smirking to himself, Ilya bent down lower over Dracen's cock, taking more of it into his mouth, feeling it swell beneath his tongue. He closed his eyes and began to suck, reveling in his energos' rich, salty taste. Though Dracen remained still, or tried to, his musk throbbed with the excitement he was too proper to reveal in any other way.

And perhaps this was just one other reason why Dracen didn't regret bonding with Ilya. Ilya sucked Dracen's cock deeper, and this time the anticipation pounding inside him had nothing to do with dread.

Such was the power of a punishment, and why he'd always submit to Dracen's capable hands in the end. Dracen could always wipe the slate clean, absolve him of all his sins, and because of that he'd follow Dracen wherever he went.

It wasn't something he could explain fully, not in words, so for tonight, he just let his mouth do the talking.

Dracen seemed to like it well enough, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this filth, because I sure enjoyed writing it! There will probably be more little oneshots from this verse in the future, so let me know if you want to see more.


End file.
